Sam watched the front door to the cabin be pulled inward and Buffy slipped outside. His flannel shirt dwarfed her petite frame; the bottom edge almost brushed her knees as she made her way slowly down the porch steps and toward the Impala. Sam leaned into the leather bench seat and glanced at his brother, “Is it just me or does she look…”

He trailed off and Dean offered, “Like hell?”

His lips thinned, “Maybe exhausted is a better word.”

The backdoor groaned opened and Buffy slipped inside, her voice hoarse as she agreed with Dean. “No, like hell works just fine.”

Sam turned, putting his arm to the back of the seat and met her tired gaze. His eyes taking a small inventory of the nicks and cuts decorating her lips and nose. A faint bruise was forming at the corner of her mouth and she cocked her head, waited for him to question her. He opened his mouth and then closed it, unsure of what he wanted to ask.

Her brows rose and Buffy pulled the neatly folded pile of her clothes toward her and smiled, a little surprised when the scent of salt told her Dean had been the one to grab her things. She tugged out her underwear and looked up, arched a brow at Sam and he quickly swiveled his head back around so that she could put them on.

Lifting her hips she finished pulling them up and Sam spoke, his voice only a little strained. “I’ve been talking to a friend of ours about werewolves.”

Buffy pushed away the rest of her clothes and bent to grab the full gallon of water she kept behind Dean’s seat. “Is that a fact?”

Sam cleared his throat and hoped Bobby was right. “Yeah and he said that hereditary werewolves are like natural wolves in most aspects.”

Taking a long pull and wincing as the plastic pressed against one of her abrasions as she chugged the water in the hopes of washing the demon’s stench from her mouth and throat. After a full minute she lowered the near half empty gallon and gently wiped at her mouth with the sleeve of Sam’s shirt. She glanced at the back of his head and tried to remember what he had been asking. After a moment of internal debate she shrugged and gave up, “What was the question?”

He turned, watched her recap and reposition the water behind an oddly silent Dean. She rose and met his stare, “Wolves are pack animals and so are werewolves.” She nodded and Sam swallowed unsure of how she was going to take his next statement. “Something freaked you out in there.” Her eyes narrowed and Sam rushed to finish, “Why don’t you ride up here with us?”

Dean turned to stare at Sam before he shook his head and Buffy finally asked, “Did your friend also happen to mention that calling a wolf on a sign of weakness can be seen as a challenge?”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Uh no, he didn’t mention that part.”

Settling back in the seat she shrugged, “Just be glad you’re human or I’d be ripping you a new one right about now.” Her eyes flicked to review mirror, meet Dean’s stare. “I got the scent.” Her body shuddered as she remembered it, tasted it and crossed her arms over her rolling stomach.

Dean started the Impala with a coughing growl of the engine and pulled them away from the shack and toward the dirt road that would take them to the interstate. His voice was straightforward when he finally spoke, “Will you track it?”

Her gaze settled on the world outside, the motionless night. “I said I would.”

He nodded, “You could eat?”

She tightened her arms and frowned with the fact that his question more closely resembled an order. She opened her mouth, prepared to snap at him but paused, knowing if she didn’t eat she’d be weaker than a human tomorrow morning. Her voice came out as an annoyed hiss, “Yes,” fear really did do wonders for her manners.

Dean ignored it, “Alright then. Denny’s it is.”

Her lips dipped at the corners but she pressed her forehead to the windowpane instead of arguing and Sam shifted in front of her, turned his head just a little. “Thank you.” Her eyes snapped opened from their drooping position and she opened her mouth, prepared herself to answer him but exhaustion stole her conscious mind and she sagged against the door.

“Buffy?” Sam turned around, his brows rising at the sight of her fast asleep. “Damn.”

“She faking?”

Sam swiveled is head to glare at Dean, “How should I know?”

He shrugged, “Poke her.”

“I’m not poking her!”

“Fine.” Green eyes shifted to the review mirror and Dean watched Buffy as he asked, “You ever notice how the jeans with the black stitching make her ass look huge?”

Sam stared at him a moment. “You’ve noticed the stitching detail on her jeans?”

Sam laughed and leaned back in the seat, letting his body slid down a bit to find a more comfortable position. His lips were tugged up at the corners; showing the impressions of his dimples as he focused on the view outside the windshield before he grew serious and asked, “Think she can actually track it?”

“What’d Bobby say?”

Sam rolled his shoulders forward and tucked his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “He said it depended.”

Dean glanced at him a moment before turning back to the road. “On what?”

He pushed onward, “Bobby didn’t mean physically strong and he wants us to bring her by when we get the chance.” Sam moved his feet restlessly against the floorboards. “She freaked out back there didn’t she?”

Dean nodded, “Real smart on calling her on it by the way.” He shook his head, “What was with the whole pack crap?”

Sam sighed, “Wolves constantly touch one another to reaffirm their connection to their pack. Bobby said werewolves are the same way. Which basically means the longer Buffy stays away from a pack structure the more volatile her emotions could get.”

“You mean she’ll get bitchier?”

“Forget it.”

Dean let free a small sigh when they finally reached the interstate and a smoother ride. “No, I get it but don’t you think after tracking Cain for those seven months she’s use to being alone?”

There was a long pause before Sam muttered, “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry. What?”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re right.”

Dean grinned, “I never get tired of hearing that.”

“Cause you hear it so rarely.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

~~~@~~~@~~~@

The pleather cushion hissed as Buffy leaned back, snatching her third apple juice since they had been seated and finished it. The tall glass was set back down on the Formica tabletop and she pushed back the sleeves of Sam’s flannel shirt. Frowned at the blood caked around her cuticles and underneath her nails. The tips of her finger still ached from clawing at the cabin’s floor and she lifted her hands, flexed them.

The heavy scent of Tommy cologne rose up from the flannel with the movement and she glanced over at her booth partner, gaze shifting down to his plate and the barely touched Moons Over My Hammy. Her lips quirked with amusement remembering Sam’s rushed voice as he ordered and the quick glance he had sent his brother. Dean’s eyebrows had risen but he managed to stay civil—at least until the fifties something waitress left them.

A hand darted across the table and snatched her last sausage. Buffy’s head turned back around and she watched Dean eat half before looking up. “Where you gonna finish this?”

Her nose wrinkled as she glared at him. “Not now.”

He nodded and pushed the rest of it in his mouth and Sam stated simply, “If you stab him with a fork he usually stops.”

Her partner in crime snorted and reached for his coffee. Pushing his plate toward Buffy and he smiled behind the ceramic rim of his cup as she began to pick at his fries. She made an unhappy noise and leaned past him to grab the salt. As she pulled pack the flannel of his shirt gapped around her slim frame and Sam’s eyes snapped shut as he realized she hadn’t bothered to put her bra back on.

He could feel the blush rising in his cheeks and it flamed brighter when Dean stated. “I think Sammy can see your nipples.”

She adjusted the shirt and arched a brow at Dean, “Jealous?”

He smirked, enjoying Sam’s glare and Buffy’s annoyance. “If I say yes will you flash me?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Then no,” and grabbed the rest of Sam’s sandwich from his plate.

Buffy shook her head and glanced up at Sam, “No harm, no foul.”

His brows lowered, “Nudity really doesn’t bother you?”

She shook her head, “Not so much.”

His head cocked in curiosity, “Can I ask why?” His lips quirked, “Or would that be seen as a challenge to your dominance?”

The waitress paused long enough beside their table to collect some empty plates and drop off another apple juice. Her tired eyes lingered on Buffy’s bruised mouth and the werewolf swallowed the urge to growl at her. She watched the woman stroll away before turning back to Sam and reached beneath the table to pat his leg.

“It’s okay. I already know I’m dominate to you.”

Her lips spread as she grabbed her apple juice and Sam gave an affronted, “Hey.”

Dean laughed, “She’s got you there, Sammy boy.” Buffy looked over the rim of her glass at the other hunter as she took a sip of her juice and then set it down. Dean raised his brows, “You may be stronger but there’s no way in hell you’d dominate me, sweetheart.”

Buffy arched a brow, “Is that a fact?”

Dean snorted and Sam interrupted them in the hopes of stopping the pissing contest that would surely follow. “So why are werewolves so comfortable with nudity?”

“Because of the massive orgies we have every full moon.” Her eyes widened with Sam’s shocked look and the choking sound Dean made. “I’m kidding!” She leaned back and crossed her arms under her breasts. “But it’s nice to know what you think of me.”

Dean grabbed a fry and pointed it at her. “You started it.”

“Shut up.”

Sam made a frustrated noise, “Children!” Both Dean and Buffy winced and turned toward him. He looked to Dean, “Stop teasing her.” He turned back to Buffy, “Stop baiting him.”

Her lips lifted at the corners as she shared a look with Dean, “Okay, maybe he’s not that submissive.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Focus…” He trailed off and blinked, coming to a sudden realization and asked Buffy, “What’s up?”

She picked up her glass. “What’s up with what?”

Dean filled his mouth again and looked up. Sam shook his head, “This is the calmest you’ve been in the weeks you’ve been riding with us.”

Buffy opened her mouth to argue and paused before she frowned and shrugged. “You didn’t reject me.”

Dean spoke around his bite of sandwich, “Reject you?”

Sam flinched, “Dude, chew. Swallow. Then speak.”

A middle finger was shot his way and Buffy laughed, shaking her head and offered hesitantly. “There was a guy in college. He knew what I was but had never seen me like that.”

“He freaked?”

Buffy winced at Sam’s question, “Understatement.” She sipped her juice. “Try disgusted. Filthy beast was the cleanest thing he called me the next day.”

Sam’s face softened and he hesitantly laid a hand on her shoulder. When she didn’t flinch he gave it a gentle squeeze and stated. “You loved him.”

Her lips lifted humorously, “Wouldn’t have shown him if I didn’t.”

“His loss.”

She glanced up, more than a little amazed by Dean’s words. “Did you just compliment me? Twice in 24 hours?”

He smirked and nodded, “But don’t let it go to that pretty little head. I still think you’re a pain in the ass.” He paused a moment before adding, “And a bitch.”

“You are so much more attractive when your mouth is closed.” Sam’s startled laugh made her smile and she glanced over at the youngest Winchester. “So you wanted to know about me being naked?” Off Sam’s arched brow with her wording, she continued. “I’ve been shifting since I was fourteen. My pack is on the large size and we usually tried to set up coordinated hunts at least once a month. You do the math.”

Sam frowned, “At least once a month? But there’s a full moon every month.”

She nodded, “But not all of us have to change during a full moon. Especially if it’s hereditary, it’s not a curse like some of the others and the moon doesn’t govern the change.”

Dean lifted his glass, “Then why did you slip out on us last full moon.”

“Why do you take the Impala to a bar and not come back till morning?”

Sam nodded, his voice taking on an excited tilt. “So shifting can be a chance for you to unwind.”

“My life always seems a little less complicated when I’m…” She trailed off as the waitress dropped off the bill.

Dean snatched it before she could and nodded to Sam. “I’ve got this. Why don’t we finish this conversation once we get a motel room.” He turned his attention to Buffy, “We still need to talk about what happened.”

She sighed, “I suppose this means I’m sharing a room with you all again.”

Sam laughed, “And this time you get the bed.”

She shrugged. “We can share a bed, Sam. I trust you to keep your hands to yourself.” Buffy looked over at Dean and smiled, “You? Not so much.”

~~~@~~~@~~~@

Her head was bent forward as she moved the towel rapidly over her hair, trying her damnedest to absorb as much water as possible, as quickly as possible. She sat, her cotton boyshorts riding up higher as she pulled herself upright and dragged the damp towel from her still wet hair. She blinked at the television as Jack Nicholson took an axe to a door and turned to arch a brow at Dean.

“The Shining?”

He shrugged, “You took too long.”

She rolled her eyes, “I was filthy.”

His lips quirked, mouth opening and Sam, never once looking up from his laptop, simply said. “Dean.”

Buffy’s lips quirked as the oldest Winchester’s shoulders dropped and he lifted a Miller to his lips, took a long pull before setting it down. His fingers ran down the condensation-lined bottle and then he drew those lazy fingers over his jeans, wiping them clean and settled his gaze on her, “Speak.”

Sam sighed and looked up, closing his laptop and sent his brother an exasperated look. “Would you stop going out of your way to piss her off.”

“Sam.” He looked to Buffy and she shook her head, “It’s no big. I already know your brothers an asshole.”

“Stop right there.” Sam sighed, dragged a hand through his hair. “This is why it’s a good idea to keep you two separated.”

Dean snorted, “We’re not that bad.”

Buffy nodded, “We’ll be good.”

“For tonight.”

She grinned, “I can handle one night of niceness to Dean.”

“And I can be civil to the bi…Buffy.”

Sam’s lips thinned as his blue green eyes darted back and forth between them. “Alright then.” He shifted forward and watched as Buffy pulled her hair over one shoulder and began to dry it again. “What happened at the cabin? What set you off?”

“And he comes out swinging.” Buffy sighed and noticed Dean’s arched brows with baby brother’s straightforwardness. Twisting her hair, she caught the excess water with the towel and stalled a moment to gather her thoughts. “The demon’s scent was rancid.”

Sam frowned, “Rancid? I thought demon’s usually left behind sulfur.”

“They do.” Her nostrils flared as her stomach rolled with the memory. “There was heavy sulfur trail but beneath it was something worse. It was like burnt flesh only with an under current of methane.”

“The smell a decayed body gives off when burned?”

She nodded and Dean frowned, “Why would a decayed body smell worse when burned?”

Sam turned to him. “You’re body is filled with bacteria, right? So when a person dies the bacteria’s no longer kept in check and that’s why the body swells and if those gases were ignited the stench would be something awful.”

Dean blinked, “Dude, you’re like an encyclopedia.”

Buffy shook her head and flipped her hair to the other side. “It was unexpected to say the least. The last demon I scented, smelled like a hollowed out pumpkin that had been left out for a few too many days.” She shivered, lied to herself that it had do to the air being on full blasted rather than any residual fear and continued, “When I feel threatened the wolf tends to leap to the forefront. Take control.”

“So you did lose control.” There was an unmistakable hint of ‘I told you so’ laced through his words as he shot Sam a smirk.

“I did.” Her matter of fact response had both of them turning back to her. She sighed, “I’m not an alpha. Not yet anyways but I’m not an omega or subordinate either. A scent alone shouldn’t have driven me into a frenzy like that. Not unless it belonged to something very old and very nasty.”

Dean picked up his Miller, took a swig and leaned forward. Bracing his elbows on his knees. “Why’s that?”

Sam shifted, suddenly uncomfortable as Buffy shook her head again. “Certain things like demons, witches and spirits. They can leave behind a presence, like a marker. Anything else supernatural comes in contact with it goes haywire. It can throw them off or taint them.”

“Taint them? Taint them how?”

Buffy glanced at Sam, “Make them more susceptible to their influence.”

“So I don’t sleep tonight. What would have happened if you were a subordinate or omega?”

She frowned at Dean. “I’d I’ve taken Sam’s arm off and then gone for your throat.”

He cocked his head, “My throat? Why?”

“You drew a weapon.”

“You would have noticed a gun while in a frenzy?”

She nodded at Sam’s question. “My wolf is foremost a survivor. She would have taken out the larger threat first before turning on you.”

Dean shook his head, “Oh it’s not sudden. He’s just finally asking you these questions rather than irritating me with his guesswork.”

Sam shot his brother an annoyed look before turning back to Buffy. She raised her brows, “It’s not separate from me. I’m not possessed by any means of the word.” She sighed and frowned, “This is hard to explain to a normal but it’s like my darker, more primal urges have been given a form, a voice.”

“Like your Id given life?”

Her lips quirked, “In a manner of speaking yes.”

“Fascinating.” Sam sighed as Dean shook his head and refocused their conversation, “Back to the demon. You know, our reason for being here.”

She nodded, ““When a demon possesses a human it can use them to mask their scent.”

Dean cocked his head, “Meaning?”

“Meaning I can still track it but it’s gonna be a bitch.” Buffy draped the towel over her knees and began to use her fingers as a makeshift comb.

“But you will do it.”

Buffy glanced at Sam, arched a brow with the way he turned his question into a thinly veiled order. “Yes, I’ll do it.”

“Well alright then. That’s settled. So lets everyone shut their cakehole and watch ‘The Shining’.” Dean snatched the remote off the small table between he and Sam and turned the television back on.

Buffy stood and moved back to the bathroom, hanging the towel over the shower rod and stopped at the duffle she had brought in from the Impala, rummaging though it in search of a comb. Within a few moments she tugged it free of the side compartment and moved to the bed Sam had designated as his by tossing his bag on it and crawled up toward the headboard. She stacked up her two pillows and leaned back against them, tugging down the white and pink striped cami that acted as the top to her pajama set and caught sight of Sam and Dean staring at her.

“What?”

“Do you have any bones in your body?”

She flipped Dean the bird. “I’m tired.”

“So that’s why you’re moving around like a contortionist?”

She shrugged and began tug the plastic comb through the front of her hair. “Just so you’re aware: calling a werewolf on acting less than human is rude.”

“So you can bend like a pretzel.” Buffy grinned at the smack that followed the hushed statement and Dean’s affronted, “Dammit Sam.”

She couldn’t ignore the calm that had settled over her nerves with the brother’s interaction. The sounds of a family soothing parts in her that had been left jagged by hers abrupt departure. Rather than shunning the humanity the brothers were stirring in her Buffy allowed more of it to come forth than she had in a long time. The tears burning the back of her throat didn’t choke her and she absently wiped at them before resuming the detangling of her hair. The fuzzy image of Jack and the steady backdrop of the brothers’ bickering became a welcomed distraction from her grief.

There is nothing better then this piece. Nothing. Okay well some things may bump it but Jensen being my slave with SMG my wife is hard to beat. *winks*

I absolutely adored this piece. Your wolf-Buffy is so brilliant. It's her but not because she's a wolf. Still very in-character and her interaction with the brothers? You pwn! I want to steal your Dean because holy crap so amazing!

You must go post this at R66 and now I must got pimp this to everyone I know!

Don't say there's nothing better! *ducks head* Then how will I live up to those expectations for the next story?

I'm doing my damnedest to incorporate things that would allow Buffy to still act like Buffy. In the next story we find out she's still iffy about hospitals as her and the boys investigate a Tuberculosis Sanatorium and let me say that TB institutions are creepy.

I’ve posted to Route 66 and to buffyxdean. No need for pimpage your reading it is enough! Thank you!